Allow Me
by Doublebee
Summary: A two-part story of the advantages, and slight disadvantages, of relationships.
1. Part I

** This is the result of when my laptop breaks, and leaves me to finish steamy stories at the desktop computer, which is oh-so-conveniently placed at the head of our dining room table, so EVERYONE reads it aloud while I type. O.e**

** Yeah, so, sorry it's… I don't know how to even define this spew-type, word-vomit of a story. ;u;**

~O-O-O-O~

Her genes should really go burn in Hell, and leave Maka the fuck alone for the evening.

Two months. Two. Entire. Months.

She didn't stand a chance, really.

Maka groaned to herself as her head made contact with a wall behind her, a dull 'thump' to attempt reigning in her raging hormones and calming down. Really. She was a big girl, and being upset over something so… not-dire… shouldn't be an issue to someone's who's looked death directly in the eyes.

But she can't help it. Her Papa's the one to blame for all this. That man-slut, with his cheating ways and charming looks… **uhhhhg**. It's just not fair, not for someone who's so pure, perfect and poised to have something so _trivial_ bother her this way.

Her mumbles, moans of frustration and head-hitting must have finally become loud enough for Soul, because before she knows, he's standing in her doorway, his face thoroughly confused. Maka frowns up at him, almost pouting with her bottom lip stuck out like that, before burying her face into her folded arms atop her knees.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" Her weapon asks, walking over to plop down on her bed, where she sits as she huffs. When he makes the mattress sink and whine due to his added weight, she shimmies back, away. _Don't touch me, don't touch me, __please__ don't freaking touch—_

Warm fingers brush through her teased bangs, trying to lift her head up so she'll just _look_ at him for a second. When her emerald eyes peek over her forearms, Soul gives her a small, almost-worried smile as his thumb pets soft golden hair.

"What's wrong, precious girl?" His tone of voice changes towards her to be lighter and more careful. "Don't feel good?"

She could just _tell_ him what's wrong with her; the fact she's unnaturally horny and needs him more than ever to fix the sensation of scalding between her legs. But that would be embarrassing, and rub right against her belief that she doesn't need any man to help her with anything, which somehow has managed to carry over and apply to her boyfriend, too. So, she nods at his inquiry and hides her face back in her folded arms.

Welcome back to Square One, Miss Albarn.

"Can I get you anything?"

_ You could stop talking and take off your—_

No! She needs to focus, she can't tell him that! Soul will **never** let her live something of that nature down, seeing as her father is the town gigolo, and it would only make her a known nymphomaniac if she ever admitted to her need.

"Maka?" Soul tries again, nudging her cheek gently with his thumb. "Talk to me, Maka."

Slowly, her head comes out of her arms. Her face is red enough to stop traffic, and she glowers at her scythe when he bites his lip to hold back a smile and a chortle. Embarrassment and denied-sexual-frustration makes a coil of heat in her lower stomach, makes her sigh shakily.

"Tell me what's wrong," velvet voice pleads, that devil's lips curling up into a smile; Maka can't tell what type of smile to save her life, but it's certainly not a pure one. When his hand comes down to her neck and lets his calloused thumb stroke along her jugular, she breathes forcefully out of her nose, and crawls closer to him. Mile-long legs come to straddle his own muscular ones, and his smile grows into a cat-like smirk when she steals his lips in a kiss. It's a short lived one, to say the least, with all the tongue and teeth she's using, but her message comes through clear as a bell, and it commences a familiar heat between his thighs.

"Two. Months." She growls against the soft flesh of his throat, her satin lips waking goose bumps there. With a swipe of tongue, she attempts to lick them away, but only causes a gruff moan and thousands more to cover the area. "That's not fair."

Maka glares when she feels Soul quivering in soft bouts of laughter, and she allows her hips to buck against the inception of his arousal. Laughter dissolves into a groan, his hips arching instantly against her panty-covered sex and skilled hands reaching to hold and caress the globes of her ass. Her voice against the hollow of his neck feels divine, as does the gyrating ministrations she allows with her slender hips.

"Please," the whimpering female breathes against his ear, trailing kisses up and down the length of his neck. Soul feels himself smirking subconsciously when he feels the heat her cheeks are emitting on his skin. He lets his hands give her backside a good squeeze before letting them run up her sides and begin undoing her already-loose tie.

"You never need to _ask_ for _that_, love."

It only takes Soul mere seconds to drop her tie to the floor, and unbutton her shirt completely in order to strangle her nude-colored bra off (he's never been very good with that **stupid** contraption that cups what's rightfully his). Maka mewls as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down from her throat to her chest, kissing, groping and nipping at the warm, velvet flesh of her breasts. Her hands shakily fight to undo his own button down shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and allowing her hands the pleasure of running along toned muscles. Her hips grind down rougher over his strained erection, and Soul grunts out a curse between her breasts, his warm puffs of breath strangely sensual.

"Soul…" She mewls, her head thrown back in order to press her hips forcefully downward in a full-body movement. The feeling of his fly against her covered folds is heavenly, for the moment, but she begs for **more**. Shy fingers dance along his neck, to tangle up in snow-white locks and tug. The pain prickling in his scalp makes him gasp desperately; crimson eyes slammed shut and lips forming silent words as she tugs.

Her hands find his shoulders, to which she pushes on to make him lie back. Although she isn't exactly his match in physical strength, the hold she has over the scythe, like this, is much more. Soul falls back onto the comforter, and once her hips shift their position to rest in the air over his crotch, his hands fly to yank off her blue pleated skirt in a single fluid motion. Even though Soul has seen her naked on many, many accounts, be sexual or not, he thinks it's still fucking adorable when her cheeks heat up from his actions.

Once her skirt is dropped to the floor, her small hands shoot for his silver belt buckle, strangling the black snake that is his belt off his hips and chucking it away. Both ignore the loud noise it makes as it smashes into the wall, because both are staring at Soul's crotch. Viridian eyes shoot up to look at his face, before going back to the matter of his jeans, undoing the fly and shimmying them off toned thighs and calves before depositing them on the floor.

Soul smirks as Maka's eyes lock on his boxer-clad erection, her entire face the shade of a tomato. His sly hands move towards the hem of her white lace panties, each index finger hooking under elastic before he slowly pulls them down and off her legs, kicking them down to the floor. Her face can't get any redder, he decides with a snort, and with a nudge of his knee to her ass, Maka flops down beside him, so he can assume his place above her.

"Bastard," she hisses, though he can tell she doesn't mean it when she sticks her lower lip out in a pout as her hands greedily pull off his navy blue boxers and throw them aside. Once she finishes her task, Maka grabs a fistful of his hair, slamming their lips together in need for some type of physical interaction. Soul lets his tongue dance with hers as he presses his erection into her thigh, making Maka moan into his mouth and buck her hips.

"Please," she begs breathlessly against his lips, her plea sounding more drastic and need-filled then before. "Please, Soul!"

Arms locked at the elbow cradle her head, and Soul showers her in as many kisses as he possibly can as his hips slowly arch up into hers, his dick sliding knowingly to where it was created to belong. Maka writhes beneath him, moaning breathily as her hips jump up at the intrusion, begging for him to move again.

He obeys. He didn't stance a chance to begin with, anyway.

Soul pulls back out, almost to the tip, before pushing back up inside her warm, said sensation making him groan and bury his nose into the nook of her neck. Small hands come to clamp in his hair, yanking for some means to keep her from letting go so soon. Maka's mewls and moans encourage Soul, and his picks up the pace, his dick nearly melting in the puddle of true bliss that is her inner, molten walls. The way her insides twitch with his every thrust and her hips arch with every recoil could make him explode alone.

But he stares at her, through squints of crimson, as he groans into her neck and calls out her name lustfully. She encourages the little kisses, licks and nips he leaves on her throat with tugs to his silver hair, and clawing motions at his shoulders of which he's sure bleed the second her nails rake over him. Said action only riles him up more, increasing his tempo, making him slam into her depths relentlessly. She cries out his name in desperation, meeting each buck of his with a thrash of her own, her arousal wetting her thighs and bed linens below them.

The way pleasure sparks across her features and voice every time he arches into her makes him both glow with pride and the coil of heat in his lower stomach grower tighter and tighter. But he holds back, clenching the muscles in his legs in order to keep from being pushed into the abyss of ecstasy before Maka has the chance to.

But it only takes a few seconds, with the way her hips arch up to meet the slack of his pace as he pulls back, before ramming in again, and how she clenches her walls purely by accident before the tidal wave of pleasure comes crashing over her, making her head lull back as she screams out his name as she orgasms. Her back arches like a stretching feline, which makes Soul's frenzied thrusts damn near sinful, the way he can fill her to the brim with ease in her state.

He yowls his orgasm mere seconds behind hers. His seed nearly singes her insides as he holds his forehead against her shoulder, almost painfully. When the stars that distort his vision finally wear off, he attempts to draw air into his lungs as he pulls out of her. Both parties give a distinct gasp as Soul removes himself from her, and drops down beside her, as if his bones had been liquefied during his orgasm.

Crimson eyes peer at his meister, who pants with her lips curled in a "blissful in death" type of smile. She brushes her damp bangs off to the side, before rolling slightly to look at Soul. With a display of Maka worming her way to get closer to him, he holds an arm out for her, the other pulling her against him. They fit together like puzzle pieces, the bulge of her hip fitting against his, her shoulder snugly placed under his arm.

"Feeling better?" He mutters, a hand absently twirling a small strand of blonde hair around his long fingers. Maka can't help but narrow her eyes as her face heats up again, and swats his shoulder with the back of her hand.

"If you insist on picking on your girlfriend," she growls out, "maybe she'll just find… _other_ ways to keep herself satisfied."

Soul takes her grit-out words as a threat, and cradles her closer to his chest, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Now, let's not be _too_ rash here, love—"

"Soul?"

He blinks, but makes a grunting sort of noise with a question mark at the end of it.

"You're pulling my hair." She attempts to wriggle away, her face twisted in a grimace and Soul does, indeed, notice his arm his pinning part of her hair down to the pillow. He lifts said arm, offering a tiny smile in apology before shrugging and curling up against her once more, his mouth resting at her ear while he speaks.

"You don't seem to mind pulling MINE when—"

Soul finds himself shoved out from her bed and onto the floor, pain biting at the back of his head that hit her carpet and his stark ass. He opens his mouth to fire something nasty at her, but when her small hand pokes out from her covers, making a "don't you dare" type of finger at him, he finds himself only snickering at her and patting her head as he gets up from the floor and pretends to gather his clothes quietly while she dozes off.

Maka dully realizes, as sleep pulls her into its grasp, that Soul has found his way into her bed, curling up against her with gentle snores making her hair ruffle slightly when he breathes out. She smiles, noticing how he **didn't** make fun of her, nor insult her for such physical needs.

She nuzzles into her pillow, the thought of how she can repay him dancing in the back of her mind as she finally falls asleep beside him.


	2. Part II

There's a natural-type of law in the Evans-Albarn household, of how the men in said home will not jerk off in a ladies presence, so as not to disturb her and ruin her purity.

However, Soul has decided this rule is bullshit, because HE did not get a say in said rule, and squirms uncomfortably in bed, his erection becoming more painful the more he tries to ignore it and go back to sleep. It is an impossible feat that Soul knows he will not surpass tonight.

He blames Maka.

After all, **she** was the once prancing around in that… tiny little yellow skirt that bounced much too high for his liking to reveal her silky white panties underneath. And, seeing as "white is the ONLY good color that goes with yellow, Soul," she'd worn a white shirt. A _see_-_through_ white shirt. That hugged her miniscule curves and showed her perky tits concealed in a sports bra beneath perfectly for anyone who shot her a glance.

He didn't stand a chance, really.

Pianist fingers toy with the hem of his boxers, debating whether or not to fix this himself or wake that miniature little vixen up himself and make her fix it for him. Soul sighs softly, dragging his boxers down and kicking them off his legs and out from his sheets. Waking Maka up would only result in injury and crankiness, two things a horny Soul is **not** in the mood to deal with.

Fingers ghost up his shaft, eliciting a strangled breath out through his teeth as the scythe takes a firmer grip on his cock. He imagines Maka, of course, with that tight, see-through button-up and blonde locks cascading over her shoulders. The way she'd leaned over to pluck at her knee-high white socks at the bookstore nearly made him bend her over right there and fuck her for all she was worth.

But cool guys don't do that. And they certainly know how to cover-up a boner in public, especially with said girl whom is the inception of said boner.

His hand picks up a faster pace—fuck, why didn't he take Maka's advice and get a bottle of lotion for **his** room?—pumping up and down faster than before. Teeth worry into his bottom lip as Soul's hips start to arch with each pump, to meet his hand in excitement.

With crimson eyes closed with remote purity as his mouth forms around silent curses, the blood that roars in Soul's ears leave him in his own world of sin. It's too bad, because once he starts to moan out his meister's name, she thinks he's calling for her in need, (which he is… in part) which rouses her from bed to come to his aid. Maka nudges the door open, only to slam a hand to her mouth at the actions he performs under his blankets.

"Nuugh… Maka," he growls, his head tossing back and sending white bangs back in a messy arch around his face. He looks rather pathetic, to Maka, he really does. Bucking into his own course and blistered raw hands to gain the pleasure she surely would have offered him, if he just asked like a normal freaking human being. But no, "Deathscythes handle everything themselves, Maka," he tells her, no matter what she offers to help him with.

But, whether he likes it or not, she can't let her partner struggle like this anymore. Quite frankly, he looks like he might rip his dick right off, what with the death-intended sort of expression his face as twisted into. She assumes it's probably because he's having a bit of trouble getting off to such rough hands, and not her own small, soft and smooth ones.

As Soul continues to furiously pump his length, hips arching up and down in a frenzy to unload what orgasms he's neglected and/or missed out on because of either pleasuring _her_ or just a lack of time, Maka creeps to his bedside, slowly sinking her weight onto the mattress in order to stay unnoticed. Too bad for her, Soul jumps, hardly trying to cover up his problem, and stares at her like a deer in the headlights.

When he opens his mouth to splutter words at her, Maka shuts him up with a long, and rather wet kiss, before pulling away, and pressing a palm flat against his mouth.

"I'm not mad," she assures, arching a leg up and over him to straddle his lap almost gracefully, "I'm not mad."

The weapon stares at her with mortified eyes, shifting uncomfortably under her. He had tried not to wake her up for something petty like this, he really had! He had thought he was doing a pretty okay job, too…

"Let me help."

He obeys.

Soul watches as Maka peels back his covers at a painfully slow rate. With every pass of bed linens against his aching erection, he gasps out, his upper half bucking up and his hands flying to the sensitive area. But her hands are already there, her tiny form trying to nudge his legs apart so she has somewhere to nestle between.

"This is a pretty serious problem here, huh," she muses aloud, grabbing a light hold on his shaft and flicking her thumb lightly across glistening tip. Soul slams back against the bed, toes curled in a sinful pleasure as he grunts out.

"It's rude to keep others waiting Mak—_ahh_!"

He is happily interrupted by wetness that engulfs the tip of his dick. When Soul gathers the strength to squint down between his legs, he does a double-take to make sure it really is Maka's head bent over his erection, swirling over the weeping tip of his cock like **one might a lollipop**.

Pianist finger reach to anchor themselves in her ashy blonde locks, needing something to keep him grounded as his meister suckles at his arching erection. The way her wet, warm oral muscle swipes over him over and over drives Soul batshit, his heels digging into the sheets and his chest heaving. It surprises him he's still managed to keep himself from coming undone, even with her lips attached to his dick.

But when Maka adds her warm, feather-light caresses to his testicles, Soul throws his head forward with a particularly loud moan of her name. Up until now, the scythe had tried his best to keep his hips steady, only rocking by a few centimeters into her mouth in order to keep her from choking on his lower anatomy. Her hands, though, brushing against the slightly bumpy texture of his balls send him into a frenzy, his hips thrusting up into her mouth in a blind need to rid of the ache in his cock.

"Mmmmh, M-Makaaah… _There_! Huuuuh… d-don't stop…!"

He doesn't give a shit about being quiet anymore; Soul actually tilts his head back in a near-scream when Maka starts to _massage_ his nads instead of just usual petting. The small gagging noises she makes are unheard by him as he calls her name our over and over, guiding her head up and down his dick as a certain warmth builds up tenfold in his lower belly.

His orgasm washes over him, throws his conscious out the window and sends his senses on overload. Soul bucks frantically, too absorbed in the sensation of his soul reaching the very heavens and being flung back to the planet in a matter of seconds, stars distorting his vision as he remembers he's back on earth.

Maka's mouth lifts off him carefully, and in an instant, she's crawling up to cuddle up in the sport of him where arm meets torso. Soul, however, still trying to recover from having his conscious wiped out for at least a minute, barely notices her snuggling into his heaving chest and draping her arm over his abdomen with a purr. She's flattered she can make him so exhausted with a few dips of her head, flicks of the tongue and kneading of the fingers.

"Feel better?" She mumbles, shyly, against his flesh, too afraid to peek up and look at him.

Soul only snorts a tired laugh, his hand finding its way to rest against her scalp and brush out the slight tangles in her silken hair.

"Cute," he comments, dryly. It amuses him how he can feel the way her cheeks heat up in embarrassment against him, and makes him laugh aloud when she nuzzles deeper into his bare chest to attempt to hide it.

"Next time you can suffer."

"You're not that cruel."

She huffs, her teeth clamping onto his nipple and making a loud screech escape his mouth and a jolt rattle the bed. Maka giggles, kissing the now-hard nipple she bit and lets her hand run down his chest gently.

"Just… go to sleep. You _already_ woke me up once."

Soul rolls his eyes, but curls against her shape a bit more complimentary-like, cradling her in his arms and resting his cheek beside her with a tired sort of smile. With a giggle, she pats the top of his head, much like one would a dog, and tucks her head beneath the junction of his jaw and throat.

"I love you."

"You, too." She sighs, in mock-frustration as she rubs his shoulder. "Now go to sleep, _please_."

He snorts, rather enjoying the way her curves fit so perfectly against him, before closing his eyes, lulled to sleep by her even, soft breaths.

~O-O-O-O~

**It's funny because I managed to put more fluff in. :'D**


End file.
